Making a Home
by Tragic Alchemy
Summary: Post Uncharted 3, Nate and Elena attempt to start a "normal" life. Sadly, one occurrence taxes Elena's coping skills to the max. Rated T for some language and sensuality.


Author's Note and Disclaimer: I apologize for the choppiness, but for some reason, this whole thing just came to me in snapshots. I felt it would be better to just present it in that manner rather than filling in the transitions with senseless scenes. To be honest, I also borrowed some lines and themes from a Heavy Rain fanfic that I published recently... I'm not sure if I can plagiarize myself, but I thought I would get that out there just to be safe, haha! Anyway, Enjoy. **I do not own Uncharted or any of its associated characters **(sadly).

* * *

"Left. No, Nate. Left," Elena repeated. Nate gave another shove to the left as Elena had told him, and the bureau slid into place. "Perfect," she declared. "Now the bed. I think I'd like it better up against that wall," she said as she pointed across the room.

"Now you want it there?" Nate asked, exasperated as he swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Despite the newly installed air conditioner, he was beginning to work up a sweat moving around all this furniture. "I moved it twice already."

"This is the last time. I just think it'd be better over here," she claimed as she traced her steps to the opposite wall. Nate sighed and raised an eyebrow.

"The last time?... Pinky swear?" he asked playfully as he extended his pinky.

"Oh, come on, just help me move it," Elena exclaimed as she moved to the bed and attempted to push it by herself across the floor. Nate chuckled but quickly aided his wife in moving the bed to its new destination. Once in place, they both stood back to examine the changes.

"Perfect," Elena decided. "Now the guest room."

"Nope, not so fast," Nate said, grabbing Elena's wrist as she tried to pass him. He pulled her into him and secured her waist in his hands.

"What is this?" Elena questioned, her face a balance of amusement and annoyance. Mostly amusement.

"C'mon. New house. Finally placed the bed. Let's break it in," he said as he lowered his hands to her hindquarters.

"Later," Elena assured, trying to push herself away, but his grip on her backside kept her locked in place. Instead of relenting, Nate pressed his lips up against the skin just below her ear. "Nathan Drake," she said, as if it threatened him.

"Elena Fisher-Drake," he mocked. But he paused after the use of the hyphenated name. "Hm, have I told you how much I love that you finally took my name?"

"Several times," she said, still trying to wriggle free. His lips returned to her skin and trailed down her neck. Oh, he knew her buttons like the back of his hand. "Okay, okay. I admit defeat," she claimed, and he lifted her by her backside while she hiked her thighs up around his waist. He beamed at her and carried her to the newly placed bed.

* * *

"Nate, get up!" Elena said loudly. It was morning and the alarm clock was going off where it sat on the nightstand. The smell of coffee filled the house, but Nate couldn't take his eyes of Elena. Her hair was down, just barely brushing her shoulders, and she wore an oversized T-shirt, obviously one of Nate's, that reached her panty line.

"You're beautiful," he murmured into the air.

"And you're going to be late," she said as she traced a finger down his arm. "We searched long and hard for a job opportunity like this. Don't blow it."

"Charming as ever," Nate said as he pulled himself up.

"I need to get around. Coffee is in the kitchen." But Nate didn't hear; he was too focused on her swaying hips as she walked away.

* * *

"Alright, Nate," Nate lectured himself. "You've fought your way through worse than this." Nate opened the door that was before him and found himself in a lecture hall in front of over one hundred college kids. He glanced from face to face; all eyes were on him.

He went up to the podium, laid a fistful of notebook paper on it, and made eye contact with a young redheaded student directly in front of him. She blushed and looked down.

"Uh," he began, and the students stiffened. "Welcome to Ancient Cultures. This class satisfies an upper level anthropology credit." The redhead interrupted with a raised hand. "Er, sure," Nate said as he nodded to the girl.

"Mr. Drake, are you new to the school? I couldn't find your profile on the website."

"Uh, yeah," he responded. "My wife and I just moved here—" The girl raised her hand again. "Yes?"

"You're married?"

"Yes, I'm married," he responded. This statement initiated a wave of whispers among the female students. "Uh, yeah. My wife and I just moved here. She was an international reporter who now works writing for a magazine. I was… a field researcher, I guess. My work focuses mostly on the early explorers." Nate paused to examine his audience. Some were jotting notes already. Others, mostly the ladies of the classroom, were staring at him in awe. "Uh," Nate stammered as he dug through his notes. "Let's start with Babylon."

* * *

"Here, I brought dinner," Elena said, setting a large bag of take-out on the kitchen counter. "This Indian place was recommended to me by a co-worker."

"Sounds great," Nate said as he popped off a plastic top and dug in without asking what it was. The spice bit into his tongue, which then told him.

"Too hot?" Elena asked, decoding the pained look on Nate's face.

"Not at all," Nate croaked through tears. Elena held a slight look of satisfaction.

"So, how was your first day?" she asked as she popped off the plastic top of a different tin.

"Something's gotta be done about those girls," he said, still tearing at the heat.

"Those girls?" Elena clarified.

"I doubt they hear anything I'm saying. They just stare at me like a piece of meat." Elena laughed at that. "It's not funny," Nate protested.

"Actually, I find it very funny," she responded. Nate narrowed his eyes, but stood to stand beside her. He ran his hands down her sides, down to his favorite place: her hindquarters. "What has been with you these past few days?" Elena questioned with a brief laugh. "You've been all hands."

"Can't a man touch his wife?" He said in her hair.

* * *

For the Drakes, the next few weeks were just a matter of developing a routine. Nate's new employment at the local university took some getting used to, but it wasn't long before the guys in the classroom began questioning him about his previous adventures. This created a "fan boy" following, as well as deepened the intensity of the schoolgirl crushes. With all that said, Nate was beginning to appreciate being in the classroom. And being the center of attention.

Elena's work at the magazine kept her busy. Constant telephone interviews with world leaders and respected officials could tire one out, but Elena was a trooper. Her relationship with Nate was evidence of that.

"Hey, baby," Nate said, coaxing his slumbering wife awake one Saturday morning. He brushed her hair away from her face and ran a finger down the line of her jaw.

"Baby?" she questioned in a mumble before turning to bury her face in her pillow. "You never call me that," she said into the pillow, but Nate couldn't make it out. To him, all he heard was "Mmmfff mmmnnn mmmmfffnnm."

"Uh, yes?" he responded to the muffled comment with a ridiculous smile, trying to be funny. "How are you feeling this morning?" His concern was genuine. After all, Elena rarely got sick. The nausea she had been experiencing recently was slightly out of the ordinary. Nate didn't have to wait long for an answer because Elena suddenly shot out of bed to race to the bathroom. Nate cringed at the sound of Elena's pained expressions. A few moments later, Nate followed her path to check on her. She was lying on the floor, touching the side of her face to the cool tile there. "You know, the campus clinic has Saturday hours. Free services to faculty members and their families."

"Sounds wonderful," Elena said, her breath forming a brief fog on the tile floor.

* * *

"So, are you going to tell me what she said?" Nate inquired during the drive back home.

"Yes," Elena said. Nate looked at her expectantly. When she said nothing, he raised a hand to prompt her.

"And?"

"I'm pregnant."

"You see? I knew it was nothing—." Nate cut himself off in mid-sentence. He replayed Elena's last statement. Pregnant. "Really?" he asked, dumfounded.

"Really," Elena confirmed.

"But… we've been so careful," he said.

"We have?" Elena challenged. Nate quickly thought back to their various intimate encounters since they've moved into their new home.

"Okay, maybe not so careful," he corrected. Nate was having a hard time wrapping his head around this new development. He couldn't figure out if he was excited about this. More importantly, he couldn't figure out how Elena was feeling about it. "Are you okay?" was the question he decided on. Seemed to be the most innocent. Elena sighed before addressing the inquiry.

"Yeah," she assured. "I just… I don't know. We were just starting a normal life."

"So maybe it's for the best," Nate said. "I mean, better now than when we were running back and forth between Asia, Europe, and Central and South America." By this time, Nate was becoming genuinely happy. A family. Finally. Something he never really had.

"Well, yeah. But what about that trip to Morocco we were going to take? Not because we were on the trail of treasure or some long lost city, but because we just wanted to go? We can't do that now." Elena sounded truly disappointed, and Nate was having a hard time sharing this same emotion.

"Sure we can," he assured. "After the baby's born. Your parents or your brother would be willing to take care of him while we go on a second honeymoon. Hell, Sully would probably even volunteer to babysitting duty… Oh! Or better yet! We wait until he's a bit older and we go as a family! Think about everything we could teach him!"

"You sound confident that it's a boy," Elena said.

"It's just hypothetical," he claimed. By this time, Nate has pulled the car into the driveway of their home, and they remained in their seats, analyzing the situation. He reached across and placed his hand upon the one of hers that rested against her thigh. "I'm happy," he decided to tell her. "Are you happy?"

"I'll get there," she promised. "I think I'm just still in a bit of shock." She mirrored Nate's smile.

"I can respect that," he supported.

* * *

Weeks later, the slightest baby bump was beginning to form at Elena's lower abdomen. She finally allowed Nate to give it attention one evening after dinner as they lounged on the couch watching some outdated sitcom. He lightly drug his fingers over the rounded area of her belly. After everything he had seen in this world, the development of his child was probably what had awed him the most. 'My child,' he thought. This became his mantra as he continued to stroke his wife's abdomen.

"What did Sully say?" Elena asked, breaking the comfortable silence. It had only been recently that Nate told his father figure about the coming new addition to the Drake family.

"He's happy for us. Likes the idea of considering himself a grandfather. Of course, he also said the kid can't call him that—would make him feel old, he said," Nate told her.

"Of all things, _that's_ what would make him feel old," she said with an amused smile on her face. "…Hey, Nate."

"Yes," he responded, still mesmerized by where his fingers were lying.

"I wanted you to know… I'm happy." Nate lifted his eyes to connect with the azure orbs that belonged to Elena.

"Yeah?"

"Very happy," she said, biting her lips to keep them from spreading into this ridiculous smile she had seen Nate display so often. "We're finally doing this," she said as she lifted a hand to her husband's face. Her fingers traced the faint scars that laid along his hairline.

"Yeah, I guess we are." And then her mouth was on his.

* * *

Some time later, they found themselves getting around for bed after a regular visit to the doctor. Nate laid amongst the blankets and sheets of the bed, his feet propped up, examining the pictures he had taken earlier that day with their shared camera. Elena stood in the doorway between bedroom and bathroom blow-drying her hair.

"She couldn't tell us whether it was a girl or boy," Nate sulked.

"She said it's still a bit too early to tell," Elena called over the sound of the hairdryer.

"It's a boy," Nate decided, regardless of what was said during their appointment.

"It's whatever you want it to be," Elena said with a laugh as she returned the hairdryer to its rightful place on the shelf.

"It's a boy," Nate repeated, this time with newfound confidence after what seemed to be encouragement from Elena.

"I'm sure it is," she said, walking toward the bed barefooted and in pajamas. She reached to pull down the blankets.

"Wait, flash me the belly," Nate requested as he help up the camera.

"Nate," Elena protested, a sweet tinge of rose gracing her cheekbones. Nate said nothing, just looked at her expectantly. Elena rolled her eyes, all in good spirits, and turned to the side to show off the small bump for the camera. Nate pressed the button, signaling the shutter to sound. He repeated the action, observing Elena over the camera. Finally, he let it drop into his lap, Elena still standing there.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed, his eyes memorizing the curves of her face and the defining features of her body. The color of rose returned to her face at that, and she moved to climb into bed.

"I think domestic life has turned you into a sap," Elena joked. Nate sat the camera on the nightstand and turned back toward his wife. He pulled at the hair tie and allowed her hair to fall around her face, twirling a finger in a strand of her hair. Elena dropped her face, and pulled herself into his side, eventually falling asleep there.

* * *

She wasn't sure whether it was the rain that woke her or the discomfort in her stomach, but Elena woke nonetheless. Glancing at the clock, it told her it was two in the morning. Elena reached down to massage the unusual ache in her abdomen away, but when her eyes dropped down to her belly, she could see the sheets were wet with spots of blood. A surge of fear flowed through her body.

"Nate," she said, reaching over to shake his shoulder.

"Huh?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed but struggling to sit up.

"Nate, wake up. I'm bleeding."

* * *

"We've missed you Mr. Drake," Angela, the redheaded front row college junior, said to Nate upon his return to the classroom after some time off after the loss of his unborn child.

"I had some pressing family matters to tend to," Nate said in a very professional manner. He had rehearsed this several times before finally going back to work. Leaving Elena home by herself made him nervous, but he really needed to return to the world of the working. Elena was fragile, having taken the loss significantly harder than Nate did.

"Everything okay?" Chad, a dedicated fan boy three seats behind Angela, asked.

"We're getting there," Nate said in all honesty with a heavy sigh. "Okay, where did we leave off?"

* * *

Elena was where Nate had left her when he returned home, curled up in bed, an ill pallor to her skin. Nate sat next to her resting body on the bed and reached over to delicately rub her back. Without warning, Elena began to cry. Nate should have known that his contact would have initiated such an emotion. Sometimes it was hard for her to even look at him.

Nate didn't want to seem like he was rushing the recovery process, but he was concerned as to how long she would be in this dissociative state. She did nothing but lie in bed, shower, and eat when Nate did enough convincing to get her to do so. He just didn't want her to hurt anymore.

* * *

"Elena, it's been months," Nate began during a quiet dinner. "Have you considered going back to work? Trying to get back to normal?"

"I don't know," was all she said. As much as he loved her, he was tired of this dark place Elena had made her home. Frustrated with no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get her functioning in a manner that seemed at least relatively normal. Relatively healthy. His patience was beginning to wane, but he held it together for at least another night. The same couldn't be said about the following night, however.

"Elena, we've been knocked on our asses before," Nate declared.

"This is different," she responded.

"I know that, but you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Elena asked, getting slightly defensive. Nate decided that having her angry was better than the emotionless wife she'd been recently.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," he said. "You need to remember that our child died, not you!" He seemed to have reached something in Elena, because she briefly displayed a look of introspection, as if she were analyzing her behavior over the past couple of months. That brief expression was short-lived and was quickly replaced with anger.

"How dare you," she accused.

"How dare I?! Elena, I have been nothing but supportive of you. But it's time to move on. I know it hurts; I lost that child, too! But we can't crawl into a hole and ignore our lives." Elena's face turned a new shade of red; one that Nate couldn't recall ever seeing before.

"…I'm going to bed." She turned on her heels without looking him in the eye and made her way to the bedroom. Nate heard the door close, and if he listened carefully, he could barely make out the sounds of her crying.

An hour later, Nate was ready to call it a night as well. When he attempted to turn the knob on the door to the master bedroom however, it didn't turn. She had locked him out. This hurt him. After shutting out everyone and everything in her life, she had finally shut him out, too. Swallowing the sting of the quite simple action of locking the door, Nate turned and headed to the guest room.

* * *

"Sully, I don't know what else to do," Nate professed on the telephone in his private office on the university campus. "I'm going out of my mind! I blew it the first time; our marriage suffered because of me. But it's not going to be me this time. I'm doing everything in my power to fix us, but she's adamant about wallowing in her grief. I haven't felt close to her in months!" He gave a painful sigh. "…I miss my wife."

"I wish I knew what to tell you, Nate," Sully began. "I'm just as lost as you are in this. I know you're getting tired of being stuck in that damned corner, but all I can suggest is to keep it up. This is beyond you. Elena will come around."

"And if she doesn't?" Nate asked.

"Then at least you know you tried, and you didn't give up." A knock sounded at the door.

"Hey Sully, I've got to go. Thanks for listening to me bitch and complain," Nate said.

"Sure, it's what I do." At the conclusion of the phone conversation, Nate stood to answer the knock. Angela stood on the other side of the door.

"Hi, Mr. Drake," she said with a smile. "I had some questions about our upcoming exam."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Come on in," Nate said as he turned his back to the door, heading toward his seat behind the desk. Angela stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She stood awkwardly there for a moment, her cheeks bright pink. "Take a seat," Nate requested after seeing her just stand there. Angela seated herself across from Nate, the desk between them.

About thirty minutes went by, the two of them discussing recent lectures and upcoming test material. They spoke briefly about Angela's classmates, transitioned into his personal experience with Tibetan temples, and ended with some last minute study techniques that she could try.

"I really appreciate your time, Mr. Drake," Angela finally said as she stood. Nate thought he could sense a slight drop in the tone of her voice and more suggestive movements of her body, especially the way she started pushing her chest forward. Also funny how she was wearing a low-cut top when he could recall her dressing so modestly in class. Or maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him. Sheesh, this trouble with Elena had him in a funk as well.

"Mr. Drake?" Angela inquired before she turned to leave.

"Yeah?" She approached his desk before she finished whatever thought she was about to share.

"I couldn't help but overhear… trouble at home with the wife?" Whoa, this was definitely none of her business.

"Uh," Nate stammered. "That's uh… that's a personal matter I'd rather not talk about." There was something really interesting about how much better this job had made him with his words.

"Well…" Angela said as she moved even closer, setting down her belongings on the seat that she had previously been seated in. She moved behind the desk, leaning over Nate. "We don't have to do much talking." Nate couldn't believe what was happening. Who was this girl? Because she definitely wasn't the well-mannered front row student he had previously known. This confusion had Nate completely paralyzed. "What do you say… _Mr. Drake_?" With that, Angela had seated herself onto Nate's lap, straddling him in his desk chair, and pressed her lips up against his neck. That did it. Suddenly, Nate was lifting her off of him and placing her on the desk, which allowed him to retreat into a corner.

"Angela," he began, a tinge of hostility in his voice. "You're going to take your things and walk out of my office, okay?" She said nothing; just continued to look at him rather seductively. "I'm married," he reminded her. "I love my wife."

"But I thought…" she trailed.

"No," Nate responded, not caring where her thought process was leading. No matter what she thought, it was wrong. It was wrong of her to move in on him like that. "I love my wife," he repeated, this time truly feeling the words course through his body. Reluctantly, Angela grabbed her things and left without another word.

* * *

Elena couldn't help but wake up angry. She didn't want to be angry, especially with Nate, but she couldn't keep the intrusive emotion at bay. Part of her knew he was right, but she couldn't swallow her pride and accept it. He was at fault for the disintegration of their marriage the first time; now, she felt as though it was her turn to ruin things.

Later in the day, Elena decided to turn the television on and see what trashy talk show she could immerse herself into this time. Lo and behold, an episode of Divorce Court featured a woman claiming her husband abandoned her after the death of their child. She cried for this woman, realizing that in her parallel situation, her husband never even considered deserting her. Nate was right; he did nothing but support her. Elena cried a bit harder then, fearing how awful she had been to him.

* * *

When Nate returned home, the bedroom door was still closed, but he decided to check the lock. To his surprise, and his relief, it was unlocked. He peered into the bedroom to see Elena in bed, the television on low. Elena shifted her head in his direction but didn't make eye contact. Nate made his way from the doorway to the bed in just a few strides. He took Elena's face in his hands and planted his lips upon hers. 'I love my wife,' he heard himself say in his head. His hands moved from her face to down around her waist, and he pulled her into him. When the moment came to take a breath, Elena pulled away gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Me too," he said. His hands returned to her face, pulling her face upward in order to lock eyes. "I love you. And it's important to me that you know that." She nodded in return. "I know it's going to take some time, but I need you to work with me. I can't do this on my own." Nate reflected over what he had just said, realizing how vulnerable he was making himself. Elena continued to nod.

"Okay," she promised in a whisper.

"Okay," he returned, followed by a quick exhale. "And when you're ready… we can always try again if you want. _Not_ to replace the child we lost, but to add to our family."

"Okay," she said again. She dug her fingers into his shirt, pulling him close. She rested her head into his chest, reveling in his presence; they both had missed this.


End file.
